


Rule Number One: Don't Steal Prescriptions

by Myzic



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Not Beta Read, Other, Stop having such a sad childhood Nureyev, Swearing, This is kinda like crack taken seriously, Where’d that come from, brief discussion of childhood traumas, it's 'teen' for all the swearing, light internalized ableism, we die like hyperion mayors, weirdly grim in some bits?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:53:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28458579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myzic/pseuds/Myzic
Summary: The Carte Blanche Crew enjoy a day of casual crime.Or, this would be the case if they could get their shit together for once. Shenanigans ensue, Nureyev worries needlessly, and together, they come up with an unnecessarily convoluted solution to their issue.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 13
Kudos: 78





	Rule Number One: Don't Steal Prescriptions

**Author's Note:**

> It’s just pages on pages of shenanigans, folks.
> 
> …how did this get so long. The original reason I wrote this ended up being less than 1/8 of the whole fic.
> 
> There are still some CWs cause Nureyev's a sad boy  
> internalized ageism/ableism (light, but unaddressed)  
> brief desc. of Brahma related-terrors  
> swearing

Peter pushed his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose, glancing over Vespa’s shoulder toward Buddy’s group which consisted of Juno and Jet. Juno wore a flowy floral skirt and a black top that hugged his shoulders deliciously under his cardigan, but his face was unfortunately turned away. Nureyev could, however, see Buddy, who smiled at him graciously and he turned his attention back to his own… pupils for the day.

“Don’t see why I need you teaching me jackshit, Ransom,” Vespa snarked. “Gotta lot more years of experience than you do.”

He tapped his acrylics on the table, only ceasing when she turned annoyed eyes on him. Nureyev flourished his hand at Buddy Aurinko, the arranger of this little activity.

“The captain has deemed me fit to instruct you,” Nureyev explained, absently pocketing a few of the brown sugar packets from their table’s tray. “And I’m not saying you don’t have years of expertise backing you, but it’s possible our differing experiences might let me offer some unique perspective on the trade. Rest assured that I intend to instruct you to the best of my abilities.”

Vespa gritted out her next few words, “Let’s get this over with.”

“Mistah Ransom, whatta ya want us to do?” Rita sparkled in the mid-day sun, her leggings shimmering with iridescent blue scales that complemented the simplicity of her light yellow top. Perhaps a little incongruous with most places they visited, but the streets of Hermes were filled with people dressed in an assortment of colours, ranging from impractical pink fur coats to mesh socks. 

They were sitting on the outdoor terrace of the Bodacious Bean Café, filled with charming black tables overlooking a street of bustling bodies and stalls, hands exchanging wares, and a perfect place for pickpocketing.

“Dear me,” Nureyev said, wrapping his fingers around his wrist, “I seem to have forgotten my watch today. So.” His voice became sharp. This was a mission like any other they’d been on, and like any other mission, there would be consequences for failure. Maybe not the life-threatening kind, but consequences nonetheless. “I want you two to find me again, with two watches in your possession. Stolen.”

There was scraping, chair legs against the warm orange tiles of the terrace, and Juno and Jet passed them by to leave the café. Nureyev wiggled his fingers bye, and Juno waved back quickly, before disappearing back inside.

“You want us to steal for your own vanity, Ransom? You could snatch one of those out of any pocket within a mile’s radius,” Vespa protested, uncrossing her arms so she could gesture at him. “The hell do you want us to get those for?” Peter did actually have no less than three watches currently in different pockets in his blazer, one of which had a particularly nice backing filled with star-shaped diamonds he had no memory of acquiring.

He looked over the street briefly. “You see that man down there? In the purple suit and bowler hat?” Nureyev asked instead of answering the question.

“The one with great taste in handbags,” Rita piped in. “I’ve got eyes on him!”

“His watch too,” Nureyev said pleasantly, enjoying the panicked glance they both threw over the side railing at the sight of his rapidly disappearing back. “And him, you must talk to. We are supposed to be practicing our undercover.”

“Are you kidding me? Like hell are we going to catch him.” 

“Oohh, I dunno if we’re gonna be able to make it to him in time,” Rita muttered, and they had both sprung up from their seats. She peered nervously over the vines creeping up the terrace’s bars.

“Then you’d best hurry,” Peter dismissed, grinning despite himself. It was enjoyable at the very least, being able to lord his own skill over the others, capable in their own ways, but not this one. This was his area. Vespa stalked toward the staircase inside, Rita rushing down after her. “Don’t get caught.”

The sound of curses lingered behind them as they too passed from his sight.

Nureyev chuckled and brushed off his pants, going to sit beside Buddy with her better vantage point, seated directly beside the railing as she was. “What task have you set Juno and Jet upon, then?” he asked, settling into his chair comfortably, and eyeing the street for when his own team started upon it.

“Phone numbers,” Buddy responded. “Particularly one from the register at the shop across the street.” Nureyev looked at her. Juno was going to retrieve a… phone number. He glanced down onto the road, looking for him, but was unable to find him amidst the masses of quickly moving people.

The shop she spoke about was a convenience store, dull lights beaming coolly onto the white tiles and aisles of snack foods. The person at the register wore a black apron, with smooth black hair, and… a nice smile, he supposed. 

Buddy smiled amicably at him. “Going to go check in on your team, and their progress then, Pete?” He was on his feet, having risen from the chair as he searched. Nureyev sat down once more. “I’m sure they won’t need your input for now, and I was just about to order another round of drinks.” She was teasing him, her glass had nothing but water in it, and that too remained filled to the brim, untouched. 

“Yes, well I’m sure they’ll do fine,” he responded and relaxed his posture so that it didn’t look like he wanted to leap up from the table at the very least. “And phone numbers aren’t exactly the most difficult thing in the world to retrieve.” Peter had once made a game of obtaining every waiter and waitresses phone number at an upscale restaurant on Leto. By the end of the night, his pockets had been full of padding from the number of napkins that’d been delivered to his table.

It wasn’t that he doubted Juno would be able to get a phone number, he just worried about his ability to woo someone a little too well. Nureyev himself knew how easy it was to be taken in by Juno Steel. It was like being sucked into the orbit of a black hole, impossible to escape or ignore even if you wanted to, and when they had initially reconvened upon the Carte Blanche, he had dearly wanted to, or at the very least _attempted_ to want such a thing. 

“I think I’ll keep an eye on them from the street. There should be a better vantage point from there, and I see no harm in brushing up my own skills while I have the opportunity,” he announced, and Buddy gave him an assessing glance that stared right through him, which he staunchly ignored. “I’ll see you later, Captain.”

“Have a good time, darling,” Buddy told him, and he could feel her smug eyes on his back. Nureyev tried not to feel like he was making a hasty retreat. 

When he got to the street, the unpaved road made him grateful for the flats he’d decided to put on that morning. Heels were all well and good when you wanted to make an entrance at a soiree: people remembered the sound of heels, looked for someone with presence along with the sound of sharp clicks on the floor, but the rustic streets there on Hermes were fashioned from artificial cobblestone, and the deep crevices between each stone did not easily accommodate stilettos of any sort.

Peter weaved through the throngs of people, ducking nimble fingers easily into open pockets. Child’s play with how many people were brushing up against each other briefly, most not even bowing their heads apologetically as they walked through. Everyone expected to be bumped into in such a crowd, and that made it far simpler to slip under their notice. 

He caught a glimpse of Vespa and Rita as he passed them in the street. They didn’t appear to notice him a few stalls away, and Nureyev watched as Rita helped the man he’d pointed out earlier to his feet, hand closing around his wrist in what he could admit looked like a well-executed movement. He could just make out the rasp of Vespa’s reluctant apologies and surmised they’d deemed the best way to interact with him and retrieve his watch was to bump into him on the street.

A sigh puffed from his lips and he kept walking past them, making sure to go unnoticed as the man got to his feet, grumbling unhappily as he went. That wouldn’t do. People remembered those sorts of interactions, their aggriever’s faces, and the two of them truly had bowled him to the floor. If he had been so clumsy as a child… well, he never would have made it out of his childhood in the first place.

He kept walking, turning his shoulders and changing his gait to become more hesitant, unsure, and came up with Nelson Query to amuse himself, a man unsure of his place in a crowd, with a dislike of going into public and menial interactions. Nureyev stuttered a few apologies under his breath, backing away nervously as he knocked into more than one person and dipped his fingers into purses he deftly unzipped.

He avoided wallets when he could help it— Hermes was more of a pitstop than any true settlement, and Peter didn’t want to strand someone on it without their identification if he could help it. A thief he might be, but Nureyev more than anyone knew what it was to be stranded from the stars without escape, and he didn’t wish to make anyone bear that particular burden.

A bracelet made of finely braided metal glinted in his hands under the sun, and Nureyev eyed it curiously before pushing open the door to the shop, pocketing the accessory as he did. Maybe Juno would like it. Nureyev imagined the bracelet winking in the daylight and on Juno’s wrist and it suddenly seemed much more appealing than it did seconds before. He placed it into his inner jacket pocket which he mentally labeled ‘for Juno.’

He pretended to peruse the snack aisle, and picked up a bag of dried fish for the stash under his bed, bending down and hiding unobtrusively behind the display as he saw Juno’s shoulders head to the check-out. Nureyev grabbed a separate pack of gelatinous balls in a squishy bag as if though interested in their contents, and glanced over at Jet standing by a frozen slush machine.

“...Imogene, was it?” His voice filtered past the rows of merchandise and within Nureyev’s earshot.

“Yeah, nice to meet you…?”

“Hera Carbon,” Juno answered. “I like your pins, did you get them in the market?”

Nureyev peeked over the aisle top to see her lightly touch one of the pins on her button-up and worked hard to tell himself he was scowling at the price of the fish-balls he was holding. It was one thing to be irritated when he thought Ms. Dauphin was being irresponsible. It was another when their boss was paying them a living wage to grey Nureyev’s hair faster than it already was.

He heard a laugh from the registry that drew him out of his thoughts and looked to see the two of them smiling at each other. “Any chance of you hanging around Hermes for a while longer?” The cashier had dimples that deepened when she grinned.

The overpriced ten-cred fish balls were clenched between his fingers and Nureyev quickly smoothed out the packaging before it exploded into slime within his grip, correcting his earlier statement as he did. Juno was not being paid for his expertise in observing the world and the complicated inner workings of its people. He was being paid on the whim of the captain to stretch the bounds of Peter’s sanity like it was rubber rather than the glass he suspected.

Footsteps drew closer, moving away from the register and to the shop’s exit, and he made sure he wasn’t visible behind the shelves.

“I’m impressed,” Jet greeted Juno as they walked past Nureyev’s aisle. “That was a very smooth exchange.” 

“Thanks. Got some practice…” Juno's voice faded as the bell of the shop’s door tinkled at their exit, and it clanged closed behind them. Peter stood up with his bag of fish strips and walked to the counter.

“Hello. I’d like to purchase these,” He said to Imogene, in a very collected and reasonable voice. Nureyev was a professional and Juno was simply completing the task he’d been instructed to for the betterment of the crew’s abilities as a whole. She was grinning a little when he walked up and it took some effort for him to not snap, or say something about the attractiveness of her previous customer. 

It wasn’t as if she'd begged to be a mark, or for the privilege of being Juno’s mark specifically.

Nureyev placed his item on the counter, paid for it with his own creds, and made sure to leave with his pockets full of merchandise worth four times the amount he spent.

The shop door rang behind him and with his heavier pockets, it sounded much more satisfying than it had the first few times he’d heard it. Nureyev turned on his heel to walk back into the street and found Juno leaning against the cement wall, turning his head to watch Peter exit with crossed arms.

“Oh hello, love,” Peter bluffed, “finished your exercise for Captain Aurinko, yet?”

“Well, you sure sound like you’ve got a lot of faith in me.” Juno responded, drawing nearer, “Which is surprising, seeing how you followed us in instead of, I dunno, the people you’re actually ‘sposed to watch.”

He deflated, despite the niggling worm of curiosity in the back of his mind. “My apologies, Juno. You’re extremely capable, even with less than a year of experience, I simply…”

“Get jealous?” Juno pursed his lips, but the corner of his mouth curling up gave him away. “Yeah, I kinda got that.”

“I don’t—” Nureyev started, protesting, but well… the moment Buddy had mentioned Juno flirting with someone, he had dropped everything to follow after, didn’t he? “It’s not so abstract a worry that others might also recognize a masterpiece when they see it. You are a very difficult person to resist, even at your most petulant.”

“Cut it with the flattery.” Still, a slightly pleased look crossed Juno’s face at the remark, and Nureyev was struck by the urge to kiss it.

“I’m hesitant to bring it up now, in the interest of not seeming like I’m bribing you to win back your favour,” he withdrew several items from his pockets in one hand and held up the bracelet with the other. “I thought you might like this?”

“Now? You couldn’t have waited?” Juno slid it onto his wrist anyway, and Peter slipped the rest of the items into his cardigan, which now that he could almost take count, seemed to be much greater than several. Juno leaned forward and pecked him on the mouth, and Nureyev relished the short moment of bliss he got before the detective pulled back. “I’m going to head back to Buddy, I’m sure they’re already waiting for me. She’s probably thinking of ways to make the next one even more embarrassing than getting a phone number while you watch, and I don’t want to give her the time.”

He had mentioned to Vespa and Rita that they were to find him when they were done, though Nureyev was near-certain they had missed that aspect of the task. He supposed in the interest of walking with Juno in the market, he could lighten their load a little. 

“I’ll join you.” Nureyev paused for a moment before indulging his curiosity. “How did you know I followed you?”

“I was keeping an eye on Buddy from street level and noticed you weren’t sitting beside her anymore. The rest was just guesswork, and the fact that I heard the door ring, but didn’t manage to catch who came through.”

“Huh. So, I was… too stealthy?”

“Yeah,” He grinned. “Pretty much.”

“That’s a new one. It’s a lucky thing the rest of the universe isn’t near as observant as you, dear detective.” 

Juno snorted, that inelegant burst of half-laughter that made Nureyev fall just a little further in love with him. “Maybe if they were, I wouldn’t have all this stuff to lug around.” He grabbed the neck of his cardigan with both hands and jostled it slightly, letting the woven material drop down with the weight of his filled pockets. “You really couldn’t have waited until we were back on the ship, babe? I would’ve brought a purse if I’d known.”

“I can get you one of those too.” Peter shot back and was rewarded with a chuckle. “Just say the word, love.”

“Don’t do that. Ransom, I swear to god.” He eyed a stall filled with what looked like good luck charms, disdain crossing his face before relaxing as he turned his attention back to Nureyev. “You know, Buddy’s gonna ask me to get sunglasses or…” Juno pulled out a scrunchie from his pocket, “hair bands next, and I'll be accused of cheating.”

“Using your wiles to get what you want is perfectly acceptable,” he said. “If you just so happened to persuade a master thief to your side, it only makes sense to take advantage of the unique and varied opportunities he offers.”

“Sure. And you can be the one to explain that for me.”

“Ah,” Nureyev conceded. “I might let you loose in the world for your own good in that case.”

“Huh, self-control. Didn’t know you were capable of it.” Juno shot back as they wound their way closer to the Bodacious Bean, and saw Buddy waiting for them near the entrance rather than remaining seated at their previous booth. 

“Holding onto what little restraint I possess seems a fruitless endeavor around you, Juno,” He agreed. “Though I would never ask you to be less…” Nureyev paused. “Wonderful?” Juno rolled his eyes at the praise, and Peter continued. “Gorgeous? Breathtaking? All of these things, in abundance, if I’m being honest.” 

“Hey, Buddy,” he called out instead of responding, and Nureyev allowed himself to be gratified at the flustered higher tone his voice initially took. “Did you get your stupid piece of paper?”

“Yes, thank you, Juno,” Buddy responded, seated beside Jet who took up at least a third of the bench by himself.

They sat on a bench on the sidewalk behind the street full of stalls and he glanced at Nureyev, giving him a small wave as they approached. “I will take on the brunt of our next role for our next task, though your flirting seemed to be incredibly adept, Juno. This should not have been as much of a surprise I suppose knowing what I do of your time at a certain ladies and gentlemen's club.”

“Vicky’s—” Juno sputtered, cutting himself off and Nureyev snickered lightly. He’d seen Juno dance, and though he was passable at it to his own delighted surprise, once he’d looked back on their time as the Dauphins with fonder eyes, he wasn’t limber enough to pole dance. “That’s not what I— I worked for her, alright?”

“I am aware.” Jet stated simply. “As I said, your time there was well spent.”

Juno’s shoulders were raised in what he was sure was an unconscious movement, and his voice had pitched higher with his incredulity. “No, as a detective. I worked for her. As a detective. I detected stuff, and that’s it.”

“I had assumed maybe you had picked up a few tips from some of the dancers, as well as being in their general proximity,” he slowly nodded as if in sudden understanding. “My apologies if this was not the case.” His mouth was a single crease, though his eyes had closed in contemplation, like not being able to see Juno’s face as he reacted prevented him from laughing.

“No, that’s—” the light of his life struggled for a moment before obviously letting it drop with a sigh. “Yeah, okay. Sure.”

Heavy steps came from behind him, and Nureyev turned to have something warm and metal dropped into his hand aggressively. He closed his hands around the watches, and Vespa walked to sit down beside Buddy while Rita stood beaming, hands in her pockets.

“Got the watches, Mistah Ransom!” She told him, “An’ this is unrelated, but how soon are we leavin’? Just asking for no particular reason at all, not even crime ones.” Rita laughed weakly, sheepishly avoiding eye contact though the question seemed to be phrased for Buddy instead of himself.

“Well, Juno and Jet performed excellently as I’d hoped, though I did want you to practice a little more before our departure.” Buddy mused, and Juno silently preened under her compliment. Nureyev was pretty certain Jet had a small smile on his face behind the clasped hands that sat on his knees. “How would you say Vespa and Rita did, Pete?”

He hesitated. Nureyev was trying to integrate himself into their unit, or family, as Buddy constantly insisted, and traded insults, no matter how mildly meant, usually weren't conducive to those ends. But it wasn’t like Vespa’s opinion of himself could get any lower, convinced as she was that he was bound to betray them. Rita could take the criticism he knew, but instead of helping, this made him more reluctant to give an honest appraisal of their performance.

“It was amateur,” Nureyev began before Vespa cut in, a defensive look turned on him.

“You wouldn’t know amateur from your own asshole,” She snapped. “Think I spent decades working on my skills only to get told off by a kid? Yeah, I don’t think so.” For a moment Peter was taken aback by her referral to him as a ‘kid.’ He spent so long dreading each new crease that folded like origami into his skin that he’d forgotten he was the youngest on the crew, though only about a decade and a half younger than Buddy and Vespa.

“Your job was to interact with him and steal his watch as surreptitiously as possible,” Nureyev explained. “If anyone knows the crime was committed by you, the game is up, and it’s over for you and your career, unless you manage to disappear, though I’m not sure the capability is within your reach. In fact, the two of you did this as obtrusively as you possibly could have short of killing him in the street.”

“That seems a little extreme—” Buddy started

“C’mon, it’s their first time—”

Vespa rose from her chair and started toward him. Nureyev stiffened at the motion, but didn’t move backward and felt something hard press against his chest. It was blunt instead of hard and pointy. Her finger, and not a knife, which he was immensely grateful for.

“Think maybe you're just a shit teacher?” Vespa said. “I’d bet you’re just setting us up for failure, trying to mess us up and get us killed when it really comes down to it.”

Nureyev blinked at the accusation, a little bewildered. “I’m trying to achieve the opposite, in fact. Your mistakes will cost you, and it’s better to learn now, as quickly as you can, I might add. This wasn’t a difficult task to accomplish.” 

Had he been so obvious on Brahma, he would have been shot down by the lasers before the man he pushed hit the ground. Nureyev had seen it himself more than once, a civilian staring wide-eyed and pale at a charred mark on the ground with terror before turning coat and fleeing the spot, though the smell of burning flesh and smoky dust clung to every street corner and piece of cloth-like their shadow. Nureyev thought he’d been going easy on them, though this sentiment was not, apparently, shared.

“Hey, just—” Juno inserted himself beside Nureyev. “Cut it out. He’s new to the whole ‘teaching’ thing too, alright?”

“It takes a while to learn skills like this, Miss Vespa!” Rita piped in from the side. “It took me a whole month to teach myself how to hack, an’ this is probably gonna be a bit harder for me to learn.”

Vespa took a step back from him, and Nureyev wondered what had prompted such a relentless suspicion of himself. Other than his refusal to depart with his real name. 

That was… likely it. 

It had been so long since Nureyev had been around others long enough for them to want the truth from him, nevermind expect it. Even if they did, usually he was gone, off to the next star before it could become truly problematic. And Juno had settled in on the Carte Blanche with almost enviable ease. Peter couldn’t bring himself to begrudge the detective for it seeing as the day they’d met he’d taken a spiked glove to the stomach for him, and despite knowing this had more to do with his self-sacrificing tendencies, their job had ended with him impulsively giving away his most sacred possession. It seemed only natural that everyone should take an inclination to the detective upon knowing him.

“That’s fine. Pete, I am able to instruct the crew for our next exercise if you don’t mind,” Buddy asked, rising to her feet to stand beside Vespa. “Perhaps it’d be better if I eased them into grifting with a gentler hand.”

“If an Outer Rim child can learn theft on threat of death, so can a group of highly-experienced criminals,” he protested lightly and then flushed when the others turned to him. Nureyev realized his cheeks were warm, he must have been a little more worked up than he’d thought, but seeing as his abilities were being called into question— something he took pride in— it could be excused this one time. 

It was a break in character and went against all of the carefully crafted lies he’d buried in Peter Ransom. Ransom did what he did because he was good at it, because he liked it, and while both of those things were true for Nureyev as well, they were not the roots of his career, which lay more in the response he’d just given to Buddy, and a floating city of lasers thousands of feet above the ground. A bit more of himself revealed than he’d intended, but… 

When he had nothing else, Nureyev had always had his skill, his abilities to fall back on, years of experience and thievery that let him scrape together enough money to make it off Mars when his job with Miasma fell through, a passport thrown together in an airport bathroom after the red lights and alarms of the Guardian Angel System. He’d always had himself, and for that to be thrown into doubt—

“Outer Rim? I know Outer Rim, Ransom,” Vespa gave him a disbelieving once over like she was meeting him again for the first time. “And there’s no way in hell you’re it.”

It used to be a point of pride for him. Surely, the well-dressed man in the shimmering ruby dress had always been that way? Not a trace of his history was left, not his name, his food preferences, his accent. All of it had been wiped away, and while this was excellent confirmation that he was succeeding in his endeavour to disguise himself completely, his gut twisted strangely at her words.

He inhaled and pushed past it, folding it neatly up and shutting the file away in the back of his cabinets. “This is the thing I excel at among us. My field,” Nureyev insisted. “I do you no favours coddling you, and I didn’t think you would want or need it.”

“There’s a difference between the first few steps and throwing someone into the deep end on their first try.” Buddy returned, “This shouldn’t be an environment where our family is forced to sink or swim.”

Rita interjected, “Yeah, me an’ Mistah Steel can’t swim either, so…” her eyes lit with realization, eyebrows flying upward. “Oh, an’ I have an idea! What if we had a competition?”

“What kind of competition?” Juno interjected.

“A stealin’ one, where we get to practice all those skills you showed us, and haul in a buncha stuff. Ain’t that exciting! I always feel motivated if I know there’s a prize at the end, like another bag of salmon dusty crunchies, or I promise to get myself ona those new Kitty Earbands from the Pawsitive line if I look at the floorplans before mission day!” She waved her hands in the air as she spoke.

“As long as it does not involve flirting again, I’d be more than willing to test our new skillset with some light rivalry,” Jet added, brushing off his pants and making to get up like he was going to walk into the street and start grabbing things right away.

Rita shook her. “Oh no, I was thinkin’ more along the lines of whoever gets the most stuff, and then we pile our loot together back on the Carte Blanche, just like at the end of Bonny and Hyde 9: The Two-Faced Face-Off!”

“I don’t think it’ll be necessary—”

Peter cut her off, an act of irreverence he’d never performed before. He had the utmost respect for Captain Aurinko, but this competition was a way for him to prove himself, his expertise, and he would not let it slip through his fingers.

“That sounds like an excellent idea.” The look she shot him could have melted steel, and he couldn’t help but sag under her disapproval if only for a moment. “Well, you’re always encouraging and organizing family bonding for us, are you not, Captain? Think of this as a way for us to get closer, and improve our skills with few consequences or rules that usually come with high-stake missions.” Nureyev forged a plan out loud, getting increasingly taken by the idea. “We split up in our teams, and…” he paused, an hour would be too long. Nureyev didn’t actually want to leave having stolen from every civilian on the surface of Hermes. “We get thirty minutes,” he stated. “The only rule would be ‘don’t get caught,’ which is a given.”

“What— I just learned how to do this, like today. Won’t your team have unfair odds?” Juno cut in.

“Well, my team will consist of Vespa, Rita, and I,” Nureyev said. “And you’ll be on a team with Jet and Buddy, two very acclaimed figures for their careers. That sounds even to me.” 

Jet grabbed his jacket from the back of the bench. “And what will be the prize for this competition?”

“If our team loses we can shoot Ransom into outer space,” Vespa offered. “I’d be willing to play that kinda game.”

“I should remind you that we’ll be on the same team for this,” she shrugged and Nureyev frowned. “Something that demotivates self-sabotage then.”

Buddy had her hand placed to her chin in a contemplative way, though Peter noticed she was rubbing her temples with the two fingers laying upon the side of her face. “The fact that you’re so on board with this, Pete, is… well, I’ll go along with it if only because you seem invested in the idea. How’s this? The losing team takes the winners’ half of the chore wheel for the next week distributed among them.”

He thought of Juno’s chores specifically, which involved things like cooking, and washing dishes, one task he was told to be mostly incapable of, and the other he detested. Vespa grimaced at his side, and Rita seemed to squint into the sunlight at the proposition. Jet had no outward reaction and Juno shrugged unaffectedly, though he had a small grin that gave away his competitiveness. 

It didn’t matter. Nureyev was the best pickpocket out of everyone there, and he would be able to win even without Rita and Vespa’s assistance. It was a surefire victory because if it wasn’t, it was an embarrassment too great to bear. But that wouldn’t happen.

“Those sound like fair terms,” he agreed, and Buddy held her hand out to him expectantly. Nureyev shook it, feeling a little preposterous as he did.

“Shouldn’t we all be deciding on the rewards as a team?” Vespa asked.

“As team leader, I think those terms are fair,” Peter refuted, taking out his three new watches and setting their timers to half an hour. “You’ll each take one of these, and in half an hour we’ll all see each other back on the ship.”

“We allowed to play rough?” Vespa asked, directing her attention to Buddy.

“Of course, darling.” Jet was already walking away, and Juno made his way onto the street. Nureyev stalked past Vespa and Rita, unsure of if they planned to stick together, and uncaring either way. They both had their own specialties, but in this case, they would only slow him down. 

He made his way through the crowd in much the same way he did before, sometimes ducking in and out of stalls, dropping into stores. Nureyev walked by the bus stop, perusing the pockets of those with their comms in hand and a definite ride away from here, where it’d be too late for them to come back and raise a fuss. He loved people waiting to commute— they always expected to forget things, especially those going for long vacations at airports. Whoops, your jewelry was gone, oh you thought you packed that nice woolen jacket, must have left it at home.

He caught wind of Buddy, smiling at an overwhelmed stall owner as she slid something off their velvet display. They ducked under the stall and the Captain looked him directly in the eye, flashing him a golden ring before dropping it into the creases of her dress, where it disappeared. 

There was a woman with a pen sticking out the side of her purse, an outer pocket with no zipper, buttoned partially and with each sway of her hips, the purple pom pom on top of the pen climbed a little further out of her bag. Peter saw Juno, following her about ten feet away, making his way down the street and almost lazily winding between people as he did. So, he walked toward her, and without offering her a spare glance, brushed against the side of her purse and plucked the pen from its place as he did.

Eventually, Juno saw Nureyev and scowled disappointedly as he rushed to meet him. He probably didn’t see the pen itself with all these people crossing between him and his target and relied on her head which he could mostly make out among the bodies. He found Juno rubbing his face tiredly before stomping toward Nureyev in a dead-set motion. Instead of disappearing as Juno might expect him to, he grinned and headed for his love.

“Why, Everett, it’s been such a long time,” He greeted loudly and embraced Juno in the middle of the street. His pockets felt heavy at his sides, and Nureyev shifted some of the items around so there was less weight. Today would’ve been an excellent time for his multi-pocketed pants.

“Honey, you’d better give me that pen,” Juno grunted into his shoulder, but still slowly wrapped his arms around Nureyev anyway to keep up the fiction he’d forced upon the disgruntled detective. “I had eyes on it first. What was that thing I always heard about honour among thieves?”

“You’d better learn to be quicker on the uptake then, Juno,” he said happily, glad for the ruse that meant he got to hug him even in the middle of their rivalry. “And I don’t see any other thieves here, just novice criminals.” Nureyev reluctantly let go of Juno who took a step back and promptly knocked into a young man with a flat-top haircut, an off-shoulder orange top, and a grumpy look.

“Sorry,” Juno had stumbled and ended up sprawled a little on the street. The look of irritation faded as the man helped him to his feet. “Didn’t see you. My bad.”

“S’cool, just an accident,” he waved goodbye, and made his way further down the market. 

Nureyev took Juno’s hand and brushed off some of the dirt on the sleeves of his green cardigan. “You alright, dear? That was quite the spill.” Juno smiled victoriously and held up a heart-shaped necklace. Peter eyed the little hinge on its side and the clear crease between the front and back. 

“Say what you want, Ransom. I’m not that slow of a learner.”

“Juno, love, you should take a look inside your newest acquisition,” Nureyev prompted and watched as Juno’s eyes flickered to the actual pendant of his prize and rapidly paled. “Hmm. I think he might miss that. Any plans of returning it?”

“Look, I couldn’t see it. He had it tucked beneath his shirt,” Juno hissed, popping open the side. Nureyev leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the young man and a redhead with snake bites piercings before it was snapped shut. “Fuck.”

“Worth something to him,” Peter stated mildly, “seeing as he went to some lengths to keep it safe instead of displaying it on his chest.”

“I know that, goddammit.” Juno turned heel and raced down the street, locket in hand. “Wait! Hold up, you dropped something…” Nureyev watched him retreat for a few moments, admiring the way his skirt fell, caught between two moving legs, and let himself be carried back into the crowd.

Later, he saw Jet passing by Vespa in the street, and he put out his foot as if to trip her as she passed by, but instead, she deftly stepped over the protruding foot with her left one and stomped down on it with her right. Her boots were padded, he knew from quiet approaches on the floor of the Carte Blanche, but even though Jet didn’t appear to react in pain in any way, Nureyev could make out his eyes tightening slightly.

When he found Buddy again, she was in front of him, and Nureyev made sure to keep his footsteps even with the pattern of moving bodies around him, shifting and relaxing, matching the ebb and flow of the louder and quieter bits of the market. One way to win this was to excel, of course, but the other was to ensure the other side did _not_ , and with the many outward folds sewn into Buddy’s dress, it was possible she wouldn’t even notice his intrusion on her being.

Peter grasped something sharp and drew back his fingers quickly. “That’s very devious of you, Captain,” Nureyev pushed himself to walk alongside her. She withdrew a small palmful of the items within her dress. Thumbtacks.

Buddy laughed, a sound made to charm, even if right now it only worked to condescend brightly. “I could have sworn I heard you say before, first rule of thieving is to be prepared for every eventuality. Everyone has a knife behind their back, isn’t that right?”

“But for the most part, not in their pockets.” He grumbled, “and I don’t usually expect knives within fabric. How long have you been preparing for me, specifically, to steal from you?”

“I purchased these a little earlier,” Buddy responded a little cheerier than he would have said was warranted, “and not that I doubt our family’s capabilities, but even a day is too short for my dear Vespa to learn a new skill. I don’t think Rita would be able to bring herself to try what you just did.”

“On behalf of our hacker, I would say given enough motivation…” Nureyev replied. His wrist vibrated with the buzz of his watch and he lifted it to hear the rapid beeps of the timer telling him their time was over. “But I suppose we’ll see on the ship.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Buddy told him. “And how was your day, Pete?”

Nureyev’s thoughts stuttered in place at the thought, taken off-guard by the question. “Well, you were there for most of it,” he laughed. “Maybe we achieved less than we set out for, but by no means was it a day wasted.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you enjoyed yourself.”

Nureyev blinked and realized the line of his shoulders was relaxed, hands loose at his sides instead of curled around a knife for comfort, that at some point during their exercise, he’d gone from trying to prove himself, to enjoying himself, and couldn’t recall when the change happened. He had enjoyed himself, he thought in wonderment.

“I… did,” he said. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Tell me that once we’ve all turned out our pockets,” Buddy told him, “and then we’ll see how much you’re enjoying yourself with double the chores and maintenance.”

Juno and Rita were already waiting at the family meeting room, a place they all seemed to have gravitated toward for their meetup, though there had been no statement of where they would meet on the Carte Blanche, and this was not a mission with the same gravity they usually discussed. Neither of them had put forth any of the items they’d gathered.

Peter took a seat next to Juno and waited patiently for the others to arrive. “Ready to lose, babe?”

“To you? I don’t think I’m capable of surviving such embarrassment,” he teased, aware of the weight in his stomach that told him his reputation, his credibility was at stake.

“Oh, I know it’s all fun and games, but I don’t think we’re gonna be winnin’ this one, Mistah Ransom,'' Rita whispered across the table like Juno wasn’t sitting between them. “This whole thievin’ thing ain’t really in my ballpark.”

“Don’t worry about it, Miss Rita,” he consoled. “I’ve got it in the bag.”

“No,” Juno groaned, letting his elbows slide forward on the table. “Don’t— don’t do that.”

Vespa took a seat at the table beside the hacker, plopping onto the seat, and she seemed satisfied. “I’m not gonna be the one screwing this up for us,” she announced. “All that talk about how hard it was, bullcrap. Easy enough to get by, I’d wager we don’t even need you to do it for us anymore, Ransom.”

He considered replying with his assumptions about how she ‘got by’ today, something along the lines of knives and threats, Nureyev guessed. “Yeah, we’re good, Miss Vespa. Mistah Ransom said he’s got it covered,” Rita piped in, and grinned to herself, tone building with excitement. “I guess you could say it ain’t exactly pocket science!” Juno buried his face in one of his hands.

“I don’t want to be a part of this.” He said muffled from behind his hand. 

“Great. We’re all here now, so we can get this thing done,” Vespa interjected, and Nureyev realized Jet had already sat down. He hadn’t noticed him entering the room. When had he grown so comfortable with these people as to not note their coming and going? He didn’t know, and it was a daunting concept.

“Juno, you come over here, and then we can pile our items together,” Buddy told him, and Juno slid out of his seat to join them. 

Nureyev started digging through his pockets, and Vespa did the same, Rita counting the slowly growing pile of knick-knacks on their table. Pens, keychains, sunglasses, chapstick, eyeshadow, pocket knives, old glowsticks, prescriptions— _fuck,_ a handful of actual coined creds, earrings and a single unmatched earring, a few wallets that’d made their way into his pocket without his notice, and notebooks. Peter fished out an unwrapped, partially eaten candy bar and felt that the disgusted look Vespa gave him was deserved. Then, Rita put down a hard block of crystal-like amber… rock affixed to a circle.

“Where the hell did you get that?” Vespa picked it up and Nureyev held out his hand for her to drop it in. “Why was someone carrying this— is this candy?”

It was dry, so it couldn’t be. “Do you mind if I keep this?” He turned to Rita who held up a pair of big dangly earrings.

“Only if I can keep these.”

“Deal,” Nureyev confirmed and she nodded at him.

“The rest will be dropped off on Elsepheron, darlings,” Buddy called out from their slowly growing pile. It was getting quite large, and Peter eyed theirs, subtly comparing bulk as Rita continued counting and placing objects into their pile. “Pete, did you make sure to separate the previous contents of your pockets from what you gathered today?”

“Of course,” he replied, and eyed the pile. Did it count if he didn’t exactly recall all the items in his rockets beforehand? It was fine.

“Forty-six,” Rita said as she finished piling together their side of items. Nureyev looked toward the other team, fully ready to lord victory over the others and Buddy Aurinko in particular. But when he glanced at their collection and compared it to their team’s own… 

It seemed a little larger, and Juno was still pulling items out of his pockets, looking increasingly confused as he did. “Where the hell…” he muttered and pulled a long chain from his pocket, one that Nureyev remembered swiping from a thin-necked teen in an overlarge blazer. Something like dawning realization sank down his throat and Nureyev froze in place.

“Mistah Steel, you— you didn’t tell me your last name hadda purpose!”

“And our team’s total is sixty-one,” Jet swept the remaining items into their pile, as the dear detective squinted at them before his face relaxed and he began to stare at Nureyev who purposefully gave no reaction.

“Holy shit, Steel, where the fuck did you get all that?” 

“Alright, this sounds like an excuse, but it wasn’t me,” Juno defended, “Ransom?”

Peter took a breath before grimacing and turning to his teammates. “I… did give Juno some items before the challenge started.”

“But that’s fine, Mistah Ransom, those don’t count at all—”

“And,” he continued, “I suppose I had grown so used to considering Juno’s pockets my own, that when I saw him later during our competition, I may have…” Nureyev winced lightly. “Reorganized my pockets into his.”

Vespa stared at him along with Rita, appearing too dumbfounded to make a move toward him. “That is the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard,” she said slowly. “There’s no way that counts.”

“It’s an unconventional victory, certainly, but I believe you were the one to specify whether or not rough play was allowed, love.” Buddy gestured toward their now obviously larger pile in a pleased manner. “Juno simply used all avenues available to him.” It was an echo of the statement he himself had expressed earlier that day, but surprisingly enough, the sound of it was not as sweet as its own shape on his tongue.

“One of you should get started making dinner for tonight,” Jet spoke up as he stood. “As part of my duties today.” He began to walk out of the room, and Vespa glared at him. 

“I’m not doing twice the amount of chores because you,” She growled, “were mucking around and doing your weird ritual mating call with Steel.”

“My apologies,” Nureyev conceded, and what had happened to his ability to conceal his flush, which now felt warm in his cheeks? “I’d be willing to take on the consequences of our loss by myself seeing as I’m the one who cost us victory.”

“Thanks, Mistah Ransom!” Rita told him and bounced out of her seat. 

“Better get started on supper, Ransom,” Vespa said, though he noticed her grabbing one of the pocket knives from the pile before she too, left the room.

Despite his loss and the consequential loss of his team, Nureyev found himself, not exactly chipper— he had _so many_ chores to do— but, content, relieved despite how his day started and it felt good. He felt… at home.

“Would you mind assisting me, Juno? Peter?” Buddy handed him a large bag which he used to drop items into, a few at a time, placing some of the more delicate ones to the side, such as the jewelry and sunglasses. The chapsticks were regrettable seeing as he had no plans to use them, and so he tossed them into the garbage, resenting the waste. 

Juno bagged a few at his side and tied his sack up with a big knot before shooting him smug looks every few seconds. “You know,” Nureyev said casually, not looking up from his task, “technically this could be considered my victory as well.”

“Shut up.” Juno laughed, “No it’s not.”

“Well, why not? Most of the items on that table are things I stole, aren’t they?”

“Sure,” he responded, dropping his bag onto the table, and making his way toward Peter, “but you have to consider, I stole them too.”

Nureyev hummed, “I’m not certain I follow your logic.” A flash of red and waving fingers was all he saw of Buddy leaving the room, and he started to raise his hand half-heartedly before putting it down again.

“I swindled them off a master thief, right?” Juno pulled him down for a kiss, and it was like being propelled suddenly through the air, he found himself dizzy on his feet for the landing as he pulled away. “That sounds competent enough to me.”

Nureyev blinked and draped his arms over Juno’s neck, winding him closer, and enjoying the gloating smirk that he so sparsely wore. “Quite the accomplishment to have earned the title ‘master thief’ from someone as talented as you.” Victory looked good on Juno Steel, skin shining with sweat from the hot sun of Hermes, lips curled without the weight of a city clinging to his every movement.

“No, I’d say he was kind of clumsy about the whole thing.” Juno said, “Got a bit big-headed and slipped up.”

If there were any reason to get distracted, it would be Juno, and he let himself admit the truth of the matter, which was that the lady was too delectable a treat to ignore. If that meant he was clumsy, then so be it. Nureyev’s hands were clean, well-taken care of, and every scar he’d collected had been erased, smoothed away by laser removal surgery. But for all those things he removed with the excuse they made his work harder, made it more difficult to blend in, to move deftly, Nureyev let Juno trip him up at every opportunity. Well, for all the things that could bind him, it may as well have been a goddess.

He puffed up in mock offense. “Perhaps he had good reason to.”

“Can’t be that good of a reason if an amateur like me got him.”

“I’d bet,” he started, “the amateur was a devastatingly beautiful lady he got distracted by. Seems as good a reason as any to get distracted if you ask me.” Nureyev delighted at the way Juno’s skin darkened around his nose and leaned down to press a kiss, marveling at the violet shade it left stained there. “Maybe the best, or only reason.” He smiled and made sure to show off every one of those sharpened enamels Juno loved.

“If a pretty face is all it takes, maybe he’s not that great of a thief after all,” Juno retorted, delivery somewhat weakened by the soft upturn of his lips. He thought, _I could steal suns, worlds, and nebulae if only you never ceased looking at me like that_.

“I think he was simply outwitted by a far more skilled thief than the one he was expecting.”

“More skilled, what a compliment,” Juno said.

“Well, the first day we met, or very soon after, you did manage to steal my heart, Juno.” Nureyev demurred at the detective’s doubtful look. 

He made a face at the line, and Nureyev laughed freely, unhindered. “You’re right,” he replied to Peter’s own surprise. He waited for the rest of Juno’s statement expectantly. “I must be pretty good at this whole thief thing to pull off a heist like that.”

“Good, I suppose, if you’re putting it lightly,” Nureyev returned.

Only, Juno didn’t have to be that skilled, as the detective it felt, had owned him, from his heart to his name from day one. Juno hadn’t even needed to steal it, as Nureyev had chosen to freely give it all away of his own accord. And he’d made it look easy, as though the heart he cradled in his fingers wasn’t one that’d barely been exposed past Nureyev’s ribcage for decades.

Master thief, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> On Brahma, it’s 0 or 100 baby! Nureyev’s like git good or die cause that’s how he learned, and everyone else is just there like ?????? no??
> 
> Come find me @themagicmistress on Tumblr!


End file.
